


Where Is My Mind?

by BroomEater2001



Category: Doctor Who (2005), Don Quijote de la Mancha | Don Quixote - Miguel de Cervantes, Fight Club (1999)
Genre: Aliens Made Them Do It, Branding, Burger King - Freeform, Chameleon Arch (Doctor Who), Dom/sub Undertones, F/M, Horny Narrator, Inner Dialogue, M/M, Monologue, Out of Character, Regeneration, Sex, Sonic Sunglasses (Doctor Who), Star Trek References, Swearing, Technobabble, Unbuttoning Shirt, Water Bottle Holding
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-13
Updated: 2020-04-13
Packaged: 2021-03-04 06:41:32
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,408
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24839350
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BroomEater2001/pseuds/BroomEater2001
Summary: In an incredible twist of events, myself, as well as my extremely charismatic and attractive friend Tyler Durden, are intertwined in what would normally be a long-running multi-episode arc of a Doctor Who episode probably under the showrunner Steven Moffat since he generally gravitated towards more esoteric plots. Also Don Quixote is involved.





	1. Prologue 1

My name is NOT Tyler Durden, but I am adjacent to Tyler Durden, behind the bushes. It’s been 2 weeks since my last soap kiss, every 2 weeks and fifteen minutes Tyler Durden, clad in a leisure suit which he convinced the thrift store part time clerk to watch him put on, her seemingly mesmerized by the P400 grit hair stemming from his chest the way smoke stems from the room of a child without parental supervision. As she followed Tyler into the changing room, I could almost see the buttons tear from her tight jeans pulled up to her bellybutton’s bellybutton. Tyler FUCKED her right there in the shop, and she gave him the suit for no more than his number, except Tyler actually gave her my number and so now every weekday at 5:05 I’m forced to sit there staring at my LG Nexus 5 which I purchased eighteen weeks ago to this very day, sit there staring at my phone vibrate much like the object found vibrating one in ten times within a suitcase at airports of which I am known to frequent.

On weekends, I just leave my phone in a drawer and hope nobody important needs to call me, as it happens, I was in the process of placing my LG Nexus 5 which I bought second hand into the drawer compartment the last four times Tyler Durden started banging on my door, demanding to be let into my room for what he calls “the soap kiss” but what I call, “the soap kiss of death”, for as Tyler’s lips kiss yet another virgin piece of skin on my virgin body with his saliva, causing the chemical reaction to which I’ve become so accustomed to once again brand another section of my skin with a caricature of Tyler Durden’s lips, I can but only pray that on the day that Death knock on my proverbial death’s door, he does not make the assumption that I enjoy the mutilation.

A friend I had a long time ago; who in the interim I am well aware Tyler looked up in the phone book and sent a polaroid picture of my chemically hickey-d skin, along with 12 grams of anthrax; had told me about how eventually, after years of heroin addiction, these addicts would have so thoroughly exhausted every last vein to shoot up on their body, that they would have no choice but to inject straight into their testicles. This aforementioned friend made a habit of bring up cock and ball related information, be it of the erotic or medical nature, this I why I suspect Tyler Durden will staple a picture of my soap kissed baby-holders onto his grave on the day I too have no more flesh left to plunder.

I am behind the bushes watching Tyler Durden through the dirt and grit covered window of a bus stop, and I from this position am able to see Tyler Durden speaking sweet words of beauty and candor to what can only be described as an elderly man, thin and pale seemingly exhausted, dressed in what would seem to my eyes, hazed as they are with hibiscus leaves and the local transportation industry’s crippling inability to maintain any of its locations beyond the basic functionality, an inability brought about due to the misled governmental mandate that government funded services such as public hospitals and public transport should be run like a business, that is to say should strive to make a profit, necessitating cutting expenditure wherever possible, thus causing a problematic association between public transport and lower class poverty, one which will inevitably be utilized by automotive companies to push for legislation which will further make allowances for those capable of owning personal transport, unwaveringly causing the further systemic oppression of those of lower financial capability as well as a proliferation of the suburb; I see then through my eyes what can only be described as a suit of armor, well maintained and clearly oversized for the svelte man embodying it, as my eyes are drawn to the crest embroidered on the anorexic’s armor, I hear the cripplingly malnourished one shout out at such a volume so as to not necessarily be considered yelling but still at enough volume to allow me to easily cohere his words.

“Be it known by all thou implored in the pursuit of understanding that on which I intend to now iterate in a singular manner! I am Don Quixote de la Manche, and I will not be insulted and placed in a position of personal belittlement by a hidalgo such as yourself! Be on your way towards uttering towards myself an utterance of an apology on behalf of your muse, your lady whom you hold dearest on this the world of knights’ gallant such as myself, the Don Quixote de la Manche! Be it known that I demand such a rigorous and well-spoken apology from your person due to your insinuation that I am not in fact el ingenious hidalgo Don Quixote de la Manche, but that I am to be taken as some sort of “doctor” by whom you stereotype me! Let it be known that I Don Quixote have never performed, nor do I ever intend to perform that which is requested from and in fact demanded of the medical profession, for as a knight gallant I am in but only the need of the blessing of my beloved lady Dulcinea del Toboso in order to ensure my success and good health, and any appearance towards the contrary can only be due to the meddling of a warlock of the dark arts, whom intends to hinder me in my pursuits by asserting the ruse that I am by any means in the need of nourishment of any kind, be it that of hunger, thirst or blood. I in truth am only in need of the warmth my love to my lady provides me, for oh but how I desire to live but for the grace of my lady!”

A few sentences after that, Tyler Durden proceeded to beat the ever living shit out of this Don Quixote character who’s utter destruction at the hands of Tyler Durden is even more impressive when recounted in full. Tyler of course started like any adult living in the world today by absolutely pivoting his kick into the balls, and not allowing the dead-man walking a moment of recourse, went on to yank at the man’s curly ash white hair hard enough to pull his head towards as sort of forward-roll P.E exercise position. As the knight plummeted to the ground, Tyler pulled out a red apple cigarette from the front pocket of his leisure suit and lit it through sheer force of will. Whilst curb-stomping on the chivalrous chump, Tyler Durden decided to say a few words, cigarette tucked neatly to the right of 100$ smile.

“We live in a society that treats us like shit and suspects us to sprout an orchid to give John Laroche meaning to his life, we’re kicked down till we piss ourselves (he kicks Don Quixote as he says kicked) and beg for more. We live in a society where I don’t want to deal with your make believe bulls#!7, I’m a soap salesman, I know more than anybody that it’s not the middle-FUCKING-ages anymore, we live in a society that doesn’t let us forget that fact, so how about you take you fucking apology and shove it up MY ASS!!” I blush as Tyler Durden says “MY ASS”.

A young boy with blonde hair and a will to live the size of Tyler Durden’s cock runs through the traffic flailing his arms trying to get Tyler Durden’s attention, I hear what he’s saying and what he said was “Stop! STOP! That’s not just Don Quixote de la Manche, it’s actually the-“ run over by a Suzuki Esteem, the boy’s corpse sits there in the middle of the street like a snow angel in a stationary. When suddenly, a strange yellow light starts exiting the boy’s long-sleeved blazer and pants, soon the entire street, which contained no zebra crossings, was engulfed in a golden yellow bloom.

Out of the light, emerges River Song.


	2. Prologue 2

I am in shock and I am in awe, an unrelenting shock fills me to my very core as I realize what I have just seen occur, from behind the recently trimmed bushes, kneeling in what I would later discover to be mud, whilst my kneecaps are muddied my mind was clear towards then knowledge that what I had just witnessed could only be the regeneration process, an event said to be undergone by a mythical race of creatures known as the timelords, whom appeared human to all but the keenly eyed purveyors of the human form, in all my many years of experience staring at the like of Tyler Durden, I came to notice that human beings do not generally have two hearts. This much could not however be said for the River Song steadily encroaching towards Tyler Durden’s location, whomst was undergoing post-regeneration shock causing her twin hearts to palpitate so thoroughly as to create a second pair of breasts, like cattle.

I rush towards the aid of my Tyler Durden, who sees me run up to him and greets me as “We’re not married to each other, chickenshit, and if we were then divorce me, this is serious FUCKING shit going on here, and I want you on your best behavior”, I redden. Tyler then goes on to ask me if I knew what time it was, and so I meekly reminded him I locked my phone in the drawer since it’s the weekend, and so Tyler decides to take his knockoff Dr Martens off of the knight’s thorax and asks him “You got a watch, a phone, any other time keeping device, maybe your squire can tell me what time it is huh Mr. Chivalry?”. The man says nothing, he only groans and tries to catch his breath whilst coughing up blood. I notice that the blood seems to be crystallize right there on the sidewalk, littering it with snowflakes the way glitter littered the 1970s.

Dodging an Audi R8, River Songs finally gets to our side of the road and begins pleading with Tyler Durden to stop his wicked assault on the man of armor, Tyler responds by puffing his cigarette right into her face, which is especially rude when considering that timelords have a lower body-temperature, making it the equivalent of somebody blowing napalm into your human face. Then Tyler looks at me and gives me the knowing signal, and so I pull out my Smith & Wesson Model 327 Performance Center M&P R8, and aim it squarely in between the woman’s two eyes, still bathed as they are in a faint yellow aura. BANG BANG, I would have gone with my revolver, had the hidalgo not near immediately after my big gun reveal, gotten up on his two lanky legs and positioned himself squarely between me and Melody.

“STOP, can’t you see I don’t do guns! Guns are bad and you shouldn’t use them! Violence is never the answer! Brains BEAT bullets and when you have a gun, everybody’s skull looks like a nail! Don’t stare down the barrel lest the gun’s barrel stare back!” the man utters in a distinctly non-chivalric manner, confusing seemingly River and I in equal measures. Reacclimatizing to the newfound personality, River Songs had this to say:

“Doctor! I can’t believe it, truthfully, I am in shock and awe at your immensely impressive and awe-inspiring recovery of your memories. My Doctor, for you will always be my Doctor, tell me, how did you overcome the chameleon arch’s ability to completely and utterly rewrite your biology, which we had utilized in order to transform you into the spitting image of Don Quixote de la Manche as written about Miguel de Cervantes during the early 17th century; a transformation which you underwent in order to convince the transcendental omni powerful collective of godlike aliens known by many names, but who most notable went under the moniker “The Q Collective”, to spare the human race from their classification as a type-R civilization, a classification which would have spelled doom for the human race in the year 2045, since under that classification in that year the Trogedobians of Mirel-4 and 5 would use a legal constituency binding the fabric of the continuum to seize and then incorporate the planet Earth into their ever-growing Dominion, which is why we intended to show the Q Collective all of the great works the human race had to offer by the year 1606, through the only form of art which the collective considered as valid, being fully immersed re-enactment. Under this burden, we of course took it upon ourselves to fulfil the roles required, with you my Doctor, perfectly chiselled by the will of the timeless children themselves to fulfil the role of Don Quixote, your beautiful eyes able to pierce the hearts of godlike aliens, and myself being granted 1999 extra regenerations in order to fill every other role as required by the text which Cervantes graciously adapted into a stage play. Oh but how I wailed, both due to my role as the boy who’s master had tied him to a tree and whipped him for disobeying him, the master being of course played also by myself, and but also due to my sadness upon noticing that due to a disturbance in the time-vortex caused by an oversaturation of dramatic particulates within a 200m radius of the TARDIS, you’d been misplaced across time and space to this very location. Regardless, I am now overcome with joy as I find that you are still fit and able in your abilities to perform the roles required of you once you are re chameleon arch-d, despite the roughhousing these vagabonds have no doubt placed upon your person, oh my Doctor, come, kiss me now and let me once again be in your warmth! Additionally, I parked the TARDIS in the smouldering wreck of one of the many seemingly bombed skyscraper buildings which could be found around the city, however in my clumsiness I was hit by a rusty yellow Suzuki Esteem which has caused me to forget the particular one of these numerous terrorized buildings I parked in. Furthermore, my Doctor, I have reason to believe that the Master put the Trogedobians up to their plan in the first place!”

I am once again in shock and awe, this time due to noticing that upon hearing that the man Tyler Durden was brutally demolishing under his feet was in fact the Doctor, Tyler Durden seemed to be a bit remorseful, and went out of his way to apologize and say “Motherfuck, today I am a fuckup Doctor, I didn’t recognize you in your senile old man form, sorry my dude, I’m fucking apologetic, this is almost as awful as modern society, a society which tells us that we don’t deserve to be born and then holds us in contempt for trying to stay alive, a society that deserves to be burnt into ashes and rebuilt atom by atom, leaving out any traced particle of what was before, fuck society.”

“Don’t worry my OLD FRIEND, how could I, the Doctor, ever hold a grudge against you, my former companion, lover, and most of all, friend.” I am Joe’s disbelief at the fact that Tyler Durden has previously met with, gone on adventures with and FUCKED the Doctor, without me Joe wouldn’t be able to comprehend and react to this immense knowledge.

Tyler looks at me, noting my confusion and lack of detailed understanding regarding the situation, and right there and then decides to give me the soap kiss of death, this time right above my left eyebrow. Sucking on my forehead as if he were trying to suck venom from a wound, Tyler goes on and sprinkles his chemical reaction spice on my forehead and almost immediately I break down to the floor in sweeping agony, as I do, Tyler speaks straight to me, becoming my entire world. “Disaster’s always been a natural part of my evolution, so I think it’s only fair that I tell you about a few of the disasters me and the old Doctor have been on throughout the years, that sound good to you, huh chickenshit?” I try and nod as the seizure of pain courses through my every cell. Tyler starts to tell a few stories.


	3. Burger Time 1

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I can't believe I'm writing more of this fic, and here I thought I had standards. This was written quickly at 5am which is why it's short. Uhh, man, Fight Club is kind of a bit cringe to be honest. I forgot how to write like I used to since I read Infinite Jest, which is an issue I have where I adopt a tone similar to the last book I read, or at least i think i do?

I am seated on a bus chair, as Tyler Durden tells and reveals unto me a tale so completely utterly and entirely mesmerising that it in combination with my eyes, which travel erratically between the 2 pairs of bulbous cocks, as well as a nice and hearty bosom provided by the nice hearty River Song, who smirks at me; needless to say, I am enraptured.

“You justify anarchy.” Tyler says “You can do anything.”

Tyler says this to a man dressed like a parlour magician trying to see what he can get away with, a man with hair so lush and flowing he is in fact, very arousing, his silver hair glistening under the Burger King light within which he and Tyler are having this conversation.

“Hey do you fockin mind I’m trying to order a Whopper here?” The man, the myth, the Doctor himself say to Tyler, who has antagonized him after having walked perpendicularly towards him, causing the Doctor’s attention to be split between Tyler and the cashier.

What a conundrum, the Doctor no doubt thought as he went into his mind palace without Clara in it since this is set after the Doctor loses his memory of Clara, Tyler explains to me.

In his mental space, the doctor reasons out a solution to this caper.

The Burger King’s vacuum sealing door makes what can only be described as the noise it makes when opened, and who else but the Doctor pops out of the door, wearing his sonic sunglasses so as to allow clear distinction between himself and the himself currently in queue, and also because the fluorescent light inside the Burger King is less than pleasant, and so as such after having experienced such eye-strain, the doctor returning to this point in the past from his future, has clearly made note of preparations for a return visit.

And so the sunglasses Doctor goes and debates Tyler Durden and so also the bare-eyed Doctor orders what has now become 3 Whoppers, with onion rings along with the regular fries, and also some nuggets.

“I’m three thousand years old, and so believe me when I say that I’ve heard a lot of bollocky definitions for anarchy in my days, but you, sexy young man, you truly cut the onions. What do you even think you mean by, and I quote, ‘justify anarchy’, exactly?”

  
“Are you chickenshitting me right now?” Says Tyler completely unphased by the suddenly appearing glasses-cladden twin. “I’m gonna hit you with a big wow, we live in a society old man, a society whose bones are yearning to auto-cannabalize, a society that looks at itself sees us and starts scratching, but you guessed it, scratching us only made us bigger and more itchy, and it’s about time we did something about all this skin.”

“Ok young man, but why are you unbuttoning your short sleeved shirt whilst staring provocatively at me, and also are you even aware what anarchy means? Generally speaking it’s a philosophy which seeks to dismantle any unjustified hierarchy, or are you using it in the colloquial sense to refer to chaos and disorder? It seems strange to me that you’d use the latter since you seem to be talking in rhetoric, are you going to unbutton your entire shirt? There’s kids in this eaterie.”

The doctor who was ordering food comes and interrupts Tyler and sundoctor’s nearby conversation with a tray of many foods indeed.

“Let’s eat yum yum yum.” The Doctor says out loud to Tyler and the Doctor.

I am enraptured at the unfolding origin story tale Tyler tells and televises to me. And but yet Tyler stops to drink from the bottle of water I carry with me for him, I hand him the bottle. He drinks form the bottle.

**Author's Note:**

> This used to be on fanfiction dot net, and I never updated it past this point, feel free to do so yourself, since I intentionally set up an episodic story mechanism and then of course never utilized it. Anyway let me know what you thought about it pretty please and pretty thank youuuu ;)


End file.
